Invictus
by yassandra
Summary: After hurt comes recovery and after nightmares, comfort. No slash.
1. Prologue

A/N Ok so this is a new fandom for me. I just want to say that I'm loving Atlantis so far!

Oh and I don't own any of the characters (I just get to play with them for a while!)

* * *

**_Invictus_**

_Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul._

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_  
_I have not winced nor cried aloud._  
_Under the bludgeonings of chance_  
_My head is bloody, but unbowed._

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_  
_Looms but the horror of the shade,_  
_And yet the menace of the years_  
_Finds and shall find me unafraid._

_It matters not how strait the gate,_  
_How charged with punishments the scroll,_  
_I am the master of my fate:_  
_I am the captain of my soul._

_(William Ernest Henley)_

* * *

**Prologue**

The sun beat relentlessly down on him as he staggered onwards, every tortured step drawing him closer to home. The cuts had stopped bleeding a while ago – around about the same time he had stopped sweating – and he wondered fuzzily if that was something he should worry about. Stopping for a minute to try to get his bearings, he ran his tongue over his cracked and bleeding lips, desperately trying to get some moisture to them, before wrapping his arms more tightly about himself to shield his already damaged ribs from any more harm and setting off again with a gait that was half limp and half stagger. He no longer knew how long he had been walking since he had escaped – it might have been days – but one thought dominated his confused mind – the need to get home. So barefoot, bleeding and wearing clothes that might better be called rags he dragged himself on towards his goal.

By the time he reached the woods, his vision was once again greying at the edges, but he forced himself to continue, knowing that if he stopped he might not start again. There was no one to rescue him this time, no concerned friend to pull him back to safety – he had only himself to rely on. At least the woods were cooler and as he stumbled down a bank he realised there was a stream at the bottom. Falling to his knees, he lapped desperately at the clear water, slurping greedily. After days of no food and little water, what he managed to consume sat nauseatingly heavily on his empty stomach and it was all he could do not to be sick as his vision greyed even more.

Forcing himself to his feet, he stumbled on, dragging his left leg painfully, and trying to simply focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Catching his foot on a root he crashed to the ground again. By now he had lost count of the number of times he had fallen but, even as he longed to stay lying on the cool earth, a thought flashed through his mind – get up or die. He had come too far to fail so close to Atlantis so he pushed up from the ground again and with one last supreme effort turned his weary body towards home.

It was dark by the time he reached the city and very few people were out on the streets. His mind had shut down to the point where he could only think of getting back to the safety of the house and he scarcely registered what was going on around him, blissfully unaware of the shocked gasps from those people that saw his ragged and battered appearance. Finally the house was in front of him and he dragged himself up the stairs. A wave of dizziness hit him and he braced himself on the door frame before forcing his arm up to paw at the door – too hurt and exhausted even to knock. The door opened and he caught the warm and comforting smells of home and saw the shocked face of one of his friends before his knees finally gave way and darkness claimed him for its own at last.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N Thank you for the reviews - and a special thanks to Princess Shania for the PMs - I'm excited to have people interested in one of my stories after being away from the site for so long!

I know Pythagoras may be a little out of character in this chapter but he's angry - and we all say and do things we don't mean when we're angry.

* * *

_Three Weeks Earlier_

_If he was honest with himself Jason had felt grumpy and out of sorts all week. Not knowing their place or purpose in the world could drag a person down in the end and the Oracle's vague foreshadowings of glory did little to cheer him. Having snapped at Pythagoras for the third time that day he had felt it prudent to take a walk to try to clear his head. It hadn't really helped however and he found himself finding fault with everything around him – from the fruit on the market stalls, to the dust in the street. Even the hot, dry air seemed to offend him by its very stillness. What he wouldn't give for hint of breeze right now, or, better yet, some good old fashioned English rain! Instead all there was was heat and dust, and his tunic stuck to him uncomfortably as he wandered listlessly through the streets. Pulling the rough homespun material away from his overheated skin he wondered again why the ancient Greeks couldn't have discovered t-shirt material. He stopped and closed his eyes as a wave of homesickness briefly overcame him. Of course that was what this was really about. Put simply he was missing the world he had grown up in and nothing in Atlantis would manage to please him until he could shake off the feeling. He sighed. It had been unfair of him to take out his own bad mood on Pythagoras – especially as the young man had shown him nothing but kindness from the moment he had quite literally crashed into the mathematicians life. Well there was nothing for it but to apologise and to try to behave if not more cheerfully then certainly in a more civilised manner._

_Making his way up the steps to the house he paused outside the door as he heard raised voices inside. Pythagoras and Hercules appeared to be having an argument. While it was not unusual to hear them bickering (or to join in – normally on Pythagoras' side), he couldn't recall hearing them actually have a serious argument before. He waited, listening for a few moments._

* * *

_Pythagoras was cross. His work wasn't going the way it should, Jason had chosen to take his own bad mood out on him over something remarkably trivial and, to cap it all, Hercules had eaten the last food in the house and clearly expected him to provide more having gambled away the last of their shared funds. Well enough was enough! He was tired of being taken for granted by his house mates (although to be absolutely fair he had to admit that Jason didn't normally do that) and when Hercules came in he turned to give the big man a piece of his mind. It definitely didn't help that Hercules had been drinking again and had found the money for the fresh jar of wine he was carrying – which he had almost certainly taken from the food fund. Pythagoras saw red._

_Hercules, however, was completely oblivious to the enraged look the young mathematician was giving him._

"_What's for supper?" he asked._

"_Oh I don't know," came the dangerously low reply, "how about air stew? Or maybe you'd prefer some imaginary pie?"_

"_Are you trying to tell me we've got no food?" the large man asked, beginning to raise his voice._

"_Yes, Hercules." Pythagoras snapped. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."_

"_Well why not?"_

"_Because you ate the last of it this morning. You left the rest of us with three black olives. Three! For the whole day!"_

"_Why didn't you go and get more food then?" Hercules was shouting now – as he usually did when he was hungry and no food was immediately forthcoming._

_Pythagoras finally lost it._

"_Because you took all our money," he roared. "And what you haven't gambled away, you've spent on wine."_

_Hercules' frown deepened. _

"_There always used to be more food than this in the house."_

"_That was when there were only two of us living here. There are three now and no matter how much you stretch it the amount of food for two will not feed three for the same length of time."_

"_Well it was your idea..."_

"_Don't say it! Don't even think it! Can you honestly tell me that you would prefer it if Jason hadn't come? If he hadn't been here you'd have been lion food, I'd be Minotaur food and Medusa would never have come to Atlantis."_

"_No, I wouldn't change anything." Hercules deflated slightly. "But he could get a job," he added hotly, his voice rising again._

"_So could you," retorted the young blond. "Besides Jason could find trouble in an empty room without trying, and you know he can still be a bit ignorant at times about Atlantis and our customs. I sometimes think he wouldn't last a day without one of us to help him." _

_He stopped, thinking for a minute that he had heard a sound on the stairs. As quickly as it had come his anger drained away, leaving him tired._

"_Look," he said quietly, "until we can get some money we'll have to try to cut back a bit. I think there might be a little bread left in the cupboard – but it's likely to be a bit stale. I'll go out in the morning and see what I can get."_

_Hercules nodded. _

"_Well you may not have been completely wrong about me and the food. I may have been a bit selfish. You're a good friend – maybe better than I deserve. I'll see what I can do about finding us some more work tomorrow." _

_He wandered into his room, leaving Pythagoras alone with his thoughts._

* * *

_They always said that eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves, but Jason had never really thought it was true before. Slipping back into the street he walked quickly away, hurt by what he had heard. He hadn't meant to bring trouble into his friends lives – if he was honest he'd never really thought about how much trouble had come to them in his wake – and he knew he didn't always know everything about this world but he did try to fit in. In fact he probably tried harder to fit in here than he had anywhere before. He sighed. Back in his own world he had never fully fit in. A largely friendless and motherless child he had become first a socially awkward teenager, and then a bit of a loner as an adult. Thanks to his father's stories he had always preferred the past or the sea to modern technology and consequently didn't really fit in with his media obsessed peers. In fact most of his friends had been much older then him – friends of his father's really who had got used to having him around over the years. The friends he had made here in Atlantis were probably the best he'd ever had and to hear what they said about him..._

_He sighed again and turned into a taverna, hoping that tonight wasn't a curfew night. Maybe Pythagoras was right in thinking he couldn't cope on his own – it was just that, even after living in Atlantis for a few months now, he still wasn't fully used to the idea of having a curfew. Sitting down at a table, he patted his pockets hopefully, looking for a few coins to buy himself a drink and drown his sorrows. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, his pockets were empty and he began to rise from the seat when he felt a hand on his shoulder pushing him back down, even as a drink appeared in front of him. He looked up to see the largest man he had ever seen standing beside him. The man nodded towards a figure in front of him. Jason looked back down and saw a genial and prosperous looking older man had sat down next to him. The man smiled._

"_I believe I have the honour of speaking to the man who killed the Minotaur," he said._

_Jason watched him warily, casting a quick, surreptitious glance at the giant alongside him._

"_Oh don't look so worried," the man said. "I have a proposition for you."_

* * *

_When Pythagoras awoke the sun was well and truly risen. Making his way into the main room he stopped in surprise. Jason was humming happily to himself – which was certainly an improvement on his mood from the rest of the week – and packing a blanket into a bag. He turned and smiled at Pythagoras. The mathematician returned the smile warily._

"_What's going on?" he asked._

"_I've got a job," the brunette answered. _

"_Doing what?"_

"_I was approached by a rich merchant last night. He wants a porter to travel with him to Helios, fetch and carry, wait around until he's finished his business and then come back to Atlantis with him."_

"_Jason..."_

"_We need the money, Pythagoras. Don't try to deny it. Someone's got to keep Hercules in food. It'll be an easy job with reasonable pay."_

"_Who is this merchant."_

"_He said his name was Dakos. I'm going to meet him in a few minutes."_

_Pythagoras looked at his friend seriously. To his surprise he realised that Jason was preparing to leave wearing only his tunic and trousers._

"_You're not taking your breastplate?" he asked, knowing that his friend rarely went outside Atlantis without it._

"_Dakos thought it would be less intimidating for his business associates if I didn't" Jason answered, frowning. To tell the truth he wasn't really all that comfortable with the idea but it was a stipulation of the job._

"_I really think you should take it," Pythagoras fretted._

"_Relax," Jason responded, "you worry too much. I'm not going to get into any trouble working as a porter. I'll be gone for two weeks – three at the most." He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Pythagoras with one of his trademark bright grins. "Trust me," he said._


	3. Chapter 2

A/N Well here we are at Chapter 2! Thank you for the reviews - like most writers I look forward to them!

As before I own nothing.

* * *

It was funny, Pythagoras mused, how quickly you could get used to having someone around. He and Hercules had led fairly quiet lives, and then Jason had quite literally landed on their doorstep – well balcony to be absolutely accurate – and life had never really been the same again – there was certainly a lot more excitement than there used to be.

He smiled softly to himself, thinking how glad he would be when they were all home again. With Hercules spending most of his time with Medusa and Jason away, the house had seemed distinctly lacking in life and colour lately. Not that he was objecting to having time to himself to work, but after three weeks he was feeling a little lonely.

He frowned as it crossed his mind that Jason had said he would be gone for three weeks at the most – and that date had passed yesterday. While Pythagoras knew his friend could look after himself, he couldn't help but worry. It wasn't that Jason ever went looking for trouble – things just seemed to have a way of happening to him and his lack of knowledge of the customs of Atlantis meant that he didn't always understand the implications of his actions. The bull leaping had been a good example of that. He had never blamed Jason for the predicament that they had found themselves in, but the reality was that even the youngest child in Atlantis would know better than to cross Poseidon's servant. Pythagoras smiled to himself. He knew that Hercules thought he himself was innocent but there were times when he felt that Jason had all the worldliness of a two year old.

He sighed. In reality he knew he was being a little unfair to his friend. Jason was a genuinely good and kind person, who would do anything for his friends – even if it meant risking his own life.

A light breeze drifted through the window, causing him to shiver and pull his outer robe around him a little more tightly. Looking up he was startled to see that the sun was setting in a blaze of orange fire, lighting the sky with gold and pink and mauve and shades he couldn't even name, and the night was drawing in. He squinted back at his parchment. The light was fading fast and soon it would be too dark to see the equations and triangles he had drawn. Perhaps making dinner would be a better option. Hercules should be home soon – as long as he was not detained by Medusa or a jar of wine – and he would be grumpy without food. Of course that led to another question – should he cook a stew for two or three? If Jason did by some chance make it home tonight he would be likely to be hungry, tired and in need of a good meal. But if he didn't it would be a waste of food (although with Hercules around no food was likely to go to uneaten) – and they had precious little to spare. Pythagoras glanced out the window at the gathering darkness again. Jason was unlikely to arrive this late in the day – it was more likely that the merchant he was working for would be setting up camp for the night – and if he did come Pythagoras was sure he could rustle up something fairly quickly. Decision made he lit the candles and lamps and set to work preparing dinner, humming contentedly to himself as he chopped vegetables and herbs for a stew. He would never admit it to his friends for fear that they would laugh, but he found cooking very comforting – the routine actions appealed to his logical mind.

The fire lit and the stew pot set on it, he turned his mind back to his beloved triangles, sitting down at the table and once more picking up his parchment. No matter how much he looked at it, however, he just couldn't force himself to concentrate. The air was getting heavy and close and he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that a storm was brewing.

A strange scratching noise at the door startled him. It sounded almost as if an animal was outside. Pythagoras stared at it uneasily, his breath coming faster and everything else in the room receding into the background. With growing concern he considered his options. He could stay sitting here, growing increasingly panicked until Hercules came home and laughed at him for his childish fears – or he could open the door and face whatever was on the other side. That was obviously the more risky option but, as there really was unlikely to be any danger, possibly the preferable one as it would save him an evening of worry.

He walked to the door and yanked it open, prepared to face whatever was on the other side. For a moment his brain froze in shock and he could feel his eyes widening as he looked at his friend, who stood leaning heavily on the door frame. Jason looked truly awful, his hair matted with blood and the rags he wore doing little to conceal his other injuries. He was covered in dust and blood and sweat. Pythagoras' brain unfroze just in time to see Jason's legs give way and he darted forward to catch the brunette as he dropped to the floor. With shaking fingers he searched for a pulse – half convinced from his friend's stillness and pallor that he would not find one. The pulse was weak and fast and did little to quiet the blonde's concern. He bit his lip, knowing that he would need light and space to work if Jason was to be saved. Gathering all his strength, he wrapped his thin arms around his friend and started to drag him across the floor to the table. He wasn't yet sure where he would find the strength from to get Jason onto the surface of the table as the man was tall, muscular and, more importantly, unconscious and therefore a dead weight – but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

* * *

It had been a good day and an even better evening. Hercules smiled to himself and slipped his arm around Medusa's slender shoulders. As they reached the outer door of the house he stopped.

"Will you come up?" he asked.

"Hercules! What sort of girl do you think I am?" Medusa admonished – albeit with a smile.

"I didn't mean to imply... I just meant..."

Medusa grinned openly.

"I know," she said and put her arms around the big man's neck to hug him. Hercules beamed. In his eyes Medusa was the most beautiful creature that had ever been and part of him couldn't believe his luck that she seemed to share his feelings. As he watched her face changed into an expression of growing horror as her eyes focused on something over his shoulder.

"Hercules," she said, her voice suddenly deadly serious.

Hercules turned to see what she was looking at. His stomach dropped as he saw the fresh blood liberally smeared on the outer door and door frame. Pushing Medusa behind him – but knowing it was pointless to tell her to stay on the street – he made his way inside and up the stairs, the feeling of sick dread growing as he saw the bloody hand prints that marked the wall all the way up. Pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs, and almost absently noting that there was yet more blood on the door frame here as well, he burst through the door in a rush, yelling for Pythagoras as he did. His heart froze at the sight before him and only Medusa's horrified gasp stopped his brain from shutting down altogether.

Pythagoras sat on the floor with a frighteningly still but very familiar brunette figure in his arms. He looked up at Hercules and Medusa with distraught eyes.

"Help me," he commanded. "I can't get him up on the table."

Hercules was at his side in an instant and between the two of them they manhandled their unconscious friend up onto the table that Medusa swept clear. Without needing to be asked Hercules fetched a small bench and set it down near the head of the table. Pythagoras frowned, his mind assessing the situation.

"I need hot water and bandages," he said. As Medusa hurried out the door to fetch water in some hastily gathered jugs, he turned to Hercules. "We'll need honey, mint and coriander to start with," he added.

With trembling but gentle hands and a sharp knife the blonde started to remove the ragged remains of Jason's tunic, hissing with sympathy at the injuries he saw underneath. Between the three of them they washed their friend and started to dress the wounds. Most of the cuts were fairly superficial but there was a gash on one forearm that seemed badly infected and a deep knife wound below the ribcage that started to bleed again as it was cleaned. Pythagoras sighed as he liberally smeared the cuts with honey before binding them. The ribcage itself was black and purple with bruising and several of the ribs were obviously broken. By the time they had worked their way down to Jason's feet Pythagoras felt decidedly sick. The right foot was a mess of cuts from walking miles barefoot, each one needing careful cleaning to remove the dirt and gravel. The left foot, however, had been crushed and was a horror story of broken bones and bloody wounds. It required careful manipulations of the delicate bones to get them back into place, before splinting and binding. Although Pythagoras knew he should be concerned that his friend had shown no sign of waking yet, he found himself perversely glad that Jason had remained unconscious as resetting his foot would have caused him a world of pain.

The blonde sighed and stepped away from the table at last to wash his hands, stained with his friend's blood.

"He'll be alright now?" Hercules asked.

Pythagoras closed his eyes for a moment before answering.

"I don't know," he said. "He's very weak and his fever is very high. Where his ribs are broken... he might be bleeding inside and I wouldn't know it until it's too late."

Medusa turned away from them, her lips set in a thin determined line, and started to sponge water through Jason's matted dark hair.

"What are you doing?" Pythagoras asked.

"It will be nicer for him to be clean and comfortable when he wakes up," she answered, never pausing from rinsing the brown curls.

"I've just said that I'm not sure he'll..."

"This is Jason," Medusa retorted. "Beating the odds seems to be one of his specialities."

Try though he might, Pythagoras could think of no way to respond to this other than to silently hope she was right.

* * *

It was late, very late. They had moved Jason to his own bed some time earlier, and although it only needed one of them to stay awake and watch their friend, none of them felt inclined to go to bed yet. Suddenly a movement came from the bed which sent Pythagoras hurrying to his friend's side. Jason hung over the side of the bed retching pitifully into a bowl Hercules hurriedly thrust into the young mathematician's hands. The blonde was aware of Medusa by his side, murmuring comforting nonsense as she ran her hands soothingly through the damp dark curls. At last the heaves subsided and Jason sank back bonelessly onto the bed. Pythagoras went to stand to dispose of the bowl when he felt a weak touch on his arm, plucking at his sleeve. He turned back to figure on the bed in concern, carefully setting the bowl on the floor as he did so.

"Home?" The voice was weak and childlike and so unlike anything that he had ever heard from his friend that the blonde mathematician felt his guts twist. He caught the brunette's hand in his own, looked into the fever bright hazel eyes and tried to smile reassuringly, although he was afraid that it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Yes, Jason," he answered. "You're home. You're safe."


	4. Chapter 3

A/N Thank you for the reviews. I'd just like to wish you all a belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

* * *

He crouches in the darkness. Huddled in a corner with a growing sense of terror at a nameless fear. Something was out there, waiting for him. His breathing quickens and he can hear the sound harshly in his own ears. He knows that he has to be quiet, to keep absolutely still, so that the nameless thing that is lurking in the shadows won't find him. His breathing refuses to co-operate no matter what he does – coming in harsh bursts, louder than ever. He shifts quietly in the blackness, wishing for some light to see what was coming for him, at the same time as knowing that the darkness is his closest ally – if he cannot see them then they cannot see him.

Hard hands, some holding sharp knives, come out of the darkness and grab at him; clawing and ripping at clothes and skin alike, and he is hoisted, chained by his wrists to a high hook and left to dangle – the tips of his toes just touching the floor. They leave him hanging there in the darkness all alone; leave him for the nameless terror to find. And it seems as if he's always been alone, never had anyone else.

Then it is there. Hot breath on the back of his neck, searing him, burning him from the inside out and he cannot help but cry out in fear and pain, knowing that if he could see in the blackness all that would be left of himself would be a burned out husk. Nothing worth saving.

The voice that answers his cries is soft and gentle – so heart-achingly familiar that he instinctively reaches out to it even though he cannot quite put a name or a face to it. A feather light touch strokes across his forehead, followed by something wet cooling his burning skin. The voice soothes him all the while like a balm on his tortured soul – and he wants to tell the person that it isn't worth it, that _he_ isn't worth it but his energy is spent and he cannot seem to form the words. Flailing he grabs a hand in the darkness and clings to it like he's drowning all over again.

"It's alright, Jason," the voice says, calming him. "Go to sleep. It will all be better when you wake up."

Allowing himself to be comforted, he sinks back into a dreamless sleep, and the cycle begins once more.

* * *

The first light of dawn crept grey and featureless over the roofs of the city as Pythagoras stood on the balcony trying to get some air. A light breeze ruffled his blonde curls into a fluffy halo as he raised his tired face and briefly closed his eyes. Sunrise couldn't be far away, bringing with it light and colour and all the promise that a new day could give. He felt his spirits lift. His mother had always told him that hope returned to men with every sunrise and he had never quite been able to let go of this childlike belief no matter what he had seen and done. Hercules might laugh at him but for Pythagoras every new day was a new chance and brought with it renewed hope and belief.

Hearing a soft moan behind him, the mathematician turned and made his way back inside and over to the alcove that had once been a storage area and now served as Jason's bedroom. His dark haired friend tossed uneasily on the bed, caught in the grip of a fevered dream. Pythagoras grimaced in sympathy – he knew from experience that the nightmares that accompanied a high fever were some of the worst that a person could have. After three days Jason still looked pretty awful – pale and drawn, his face flushed with fever and a few errant curls sticking to his forehead where he was sweating. One of his friends had sat with him at all times since he had come home – trading off with each other in order to get a few short hours sleep when they could. His fever and delirium were still both very high and it galled Pythagoras that all they could really do was try to keep him as cool as they could and try to soothe him when the nightmares got too bad – apart from that they would have to wait until his fever broke.

The blonde sat down on a stool alongside the bed and rubbed his gritty eyes – gods he was tired! Not that he would do anything differently if he had the chance – apart from possibly tying his friend to a chair to stop him taking the job that had been the start of all this. He reached into a bowl of water at his side for a cloth, wrung it out and carefully started to mop his friends forehead, hoping that a change would come soon.

* * *

Hercules winced at the pitiful cries coming from his friend. He might not admit it, even to himself, but he had grown very fond of both the boys he lived with. And they were both still boys, young enough to be his sons when you got right down to it – not that he would ever admit that he was less than youthful himself. He frowned. Both he and Pythagoras had known from quite early on that Jason was special, even if the boy didn't always seem to know it himself, so to see him like this was dreadful. He looked across at the alcove. Pythagoras was trying to calm their friend, but it was obvious that the dark haired lad was having none of it, crying out pitifully for his father. He sounded like a lost child and his cries were getting more frantic all the time.

Hercules strode across to the bed.

"It's alright son," he said. "I'm right here."

Pythagoras looked up at him sharply.

"Dad?" Jason was suddenly calmer. "I've missed you so much."

Hercules closed his eyes – the boy still sounded so much like a lost child that his heart ached. He crouched down beside the bed and grasped one of the flailing hands in his own, while using his other hand to gently brush the sweaty curls back from the hot forehead.

"Sleep now, Jason," he said. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

Jason relaxed back peacefully and drifted away from them again.

"What did you pretend to be his father for?" Pythagoras hissed.

"It calmed him down didn't it?"

"But you lied."

Hercules almost smiled.

"It gave him peace," he said.

* * *

_He was back in the sub again with the glass imploding on him. Even as he shielded his eyes he felt the water rushing in, pulling at him, filling his ears with a roaring sound. He held his breath for as long as he could, lungs bursting and head pounding from the pressure. Logically he knew that he would be dead long before any rescue could come. He struggled to free himself from the twisted remains of the sub but the water kept pulling him back. He knew he was drowning even as he tried to struggle towards a surface that he couldn't even see. He was going to die..._

Gasping, Jason suddenly came back to consciousness. Even in the aftermath of the dream it was hard to shake the feeling that he was drowning and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his erratic breathing. He slowly opened his eyes and let the room come back into focus. He was home, in his own bed, in the house he shared in Atlantis. He was safe. He swallowed again still feeling the lingering effects of panic.

"Shh. It's alright Jason. Just go back to sleep." The voice was decidedly feminine and quite familiar. Jason turned slightly towards it.

"Medusa?" he asked, unsure why the woman Hercules loved was sitting by his bed. His voice sounded rough and weak to his own ears.

Medusa looked at him properly and smiled, her joy written on her face. The young man in front of her looked pale and weak but the hazel eyes were lucid and clear of fever. She ghosted a soft hand across his face to assure herself of the fact that his fever had finally broken.

"Welcome back," she said simply.

Jason frowned in confusion.

"What?" he asked.

"You've been very ill," Medusa answered. "But I think you might just be alright now. Would you like a drink?" On receiving an answering nod, she reached down beside herself and picked up a drinking cup. Carefully slipping her arm beneath her friend's shoulders, she helped him to sit and drink, before gently settling him back down again and brushing the dark curls away from his eyes. She was more than a little startled to discover both how weak Jason was at the moment and how maternal she felt. She smiled down at him as he closed his eyes, unable to stay awake any longer, and settled herself back into a more comfortable position on the stool, as exhaustion claimed the young man and he drifted into a dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N Sorry this update has taken so long - too many stories and plotlines rolling around in my head! I struggled with this chapter so I hope it's ok.

Thank you all for the reviews - please continue :)

* * *

The first thing Pythagoras noticed upon opening his eyes was how quiet the house was. He lay still for a moment trying to reconcile the lack of sound with the usual bustle which invaded the house. On any normal day he would wake to hear Jason quietly trotting around their home – sometimes he was sure that his friend never slept because he always seemed to be awake – preparing his breakfast, picking up crockery or even sharpening his sword on one memorable occasion – although he hadn't done it again that early in the morning; apparently being shouted at by a semi-hungover Hercules for making "that infernal racket" had been enough to stop a repeat performance. Pythagoras smiled at the memory before the reason for the quiet hit him like a ton of rock. He sighed. What he wouldn't give to hear Jason's sword being sharpened right now, and to know that everything was normal – well as normal as you got in a house where, at various times, they'd been arrested, chased by Maenads, hunted by Furies (and he still felt more than a little guilty for that one) and one of them had spent time as a pig!

He slipped out of bed and stretched, trying to shake off the fuzzy, just-got-up feeling that came from having too little sleep recently. He shouldn't have been sleeping at all but Medusa had chased him off to bed last night when he had fallen asleep at the table for the third time (the woman was lethal with a broom!). She had promised to wake him if he was needed in the night – so the fact that she hadn't could only be viewed as a good thing – at least that was what Pythagoras hoped.

He straightened his tunic and ran a hand through his rumpled hair, trying to tame the wild blonde curls into some semblance of order, before pulling the curtain that separated his room from the rest of the house aside, and stepping out onto the main room. The sight that greeted him made him stop. Instead of being at their friend's side as he expected, Medusa was quietly preparing breakfast, humming softly to herself under her breath. She turned as she realised Pythagoras was behind her and smiled so brightly it was like the sun coming up – her joy written clearly in her eyes. She put the bowl she was holding down on the table and came towards the mathematician with her hands outstretched.

"He woke up in the night," she said simply.

Pythagoras had no need to ask who _he_ was. He cast a quick glance towards the bed in the alcove before turning back to the girl.

"Was he... I mean did he... I mean... oh gods." He struggled to string a coherent sentence together as relief coursed through him, releasing the tension he had been feeling for days.

Fortunately Medusa seemed to know exactly what he was trying to say.

"Jason was fine," she smiled. "Tired and weak as a newborn kitten, but completely with me. The fever has almost gone. He's sleeping peacefully right now."

Pythagoras stumbled towards the table and sat down heavily on a stool.

"Thank the gods," he breathed.

Medusa came over and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Pythagoras slid his own arms around her waist and looked up at her, his smile so wide it threatened to split his face in two. Just at this moment Hercules wandered sleepily out of his bedroom, yawning and scratching an armpit. He stopped and stared in confusion at his girlfriend locked in an embrace with his house mate.

"What's going on?" he asked.

* * *

The second time Jason woke up it was late morning and the sounds from the bustling streets below were providing the normal background soundtrack which permeated the house on a daily basis. He lay still for some time blinking sleepily at the spread of light on the ceiling, trying to work out why he was so tired and why everything seemed to hurt. After a while he turned his head to look into the main room. Pythagoras was sitting at the table with his back to him, working industriously, his various parchments spread out in front of him. Jason smiled fondly at his friend's back and relaxed back into the bed, feeling strangely comfortable in spite of his various aches and pains. It felt good to be home – although he couldn't for the moment recall where he had been.

Pythagoras had been deeply engrossed in his work for a while. Hercules had left some time earlier to walk Medusa to work. Gradually the feeling of being watched crept over him and he rolled his shoulders uneasily. He eventually slowly turned to look around the room, blue eyes widening in surprise as they met the tired hazel eyes of his friend. He smiled and stood so suddenly that the stool fell over. Hurrying across the room, he sat himself down on the edge of Jason's bed, reaching out with one hand to feel his friend's forehead, while his other hand caught the brunette's wrist and started to feel his pulse.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Jason winced as he tried to move in the bed.

"Like Hercules is sitting on my chest," he answered quietly.

Pythagoras smiled even more. His friend's voice had been weak – little more than a whisper – but he sounded like himself again.

"Yes, well. You have a few broken ribs so I'm not really surprised."

"What happened?"

The blonde frowned.

"I was rather hoping you could tell me that," he said.

Jason closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them wide as his memories started to return. His breathing quickened and his hands started working at the edge of the blanket, pulling at the loose threads almost desperately. Pythagoras watched helplessly as his friend started to lose what little colour he had, obviously on the verge of a full blown panic attack. That was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

"It's alright," he soothed. "We don't have to talk about it now. You don't even need to think about it. Just rest."

For a few minutes it seemed that his comforting was destined to fail, as Jason's breathing grew more erratic and his eyes darted around the room without really seeing what was there. Eventually though he started to calm down, collapsing bonelessly back onto the mattress and closing his eyes. He blinked sleepily at Pythagoras – what little energy he had was already spent. The blonde smiled reassuringly as he stood and made his way to the table, and poured out some liquid into a cup. He made his way back over to Jason and sat down again.

"You need to drink this," he said. "It will help with the pain. Afterwards you might want to try eating something – are you hungry?"

Jason shrugged.

"Not really."

"Perhaps some milk then."

Pythagoras helped the brunette into a sitting position, noting the winces that the young man tried hard to hide, and handed Jason the cup, steadying it when he found that Jason was struggling to hold it still. Jason grimaced at the bitter taste of the tonic but swallowed it down before Pythagoras settled him back onto the pillows. He sighed.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked.

"Apart from the broken ribs," the mathematician answered, "you've got some cuts and bruises – lots of cuts and bruises – and several of the bones in your left foot were broken – it looked like your foot had been crushed. I don't think you're going to be running around for a while..."

"Medusa said I'd been ill."

"Mmmm. Yes. Very ill in fact. You'd lost a lot of blood and several of the cuts were quite badly infected. You scared us all." He looked down at his hands, lost in thought.

"Thank you."

Pythagoras looked up again, slightly startled at the raw gratitude he heard in his friend's voice.

"For what?" he asked.

"For caring," came the response. "I'm not really used to people caring that much."

Pythagoras looked hard at Jason. The brunette had turned away slightly as if he was embarrassed by his own admission. He was really curious and wanted to ask what Jason meant but decided that it was a conversation that could wait for another time when he saw just how close to sleep his friend was.

"Right," he said brightly. "I'll get you some milk."

He slipped a spoonful of honey into the milk, reasoning that it couldn't hurt. Having helped Jason to drink this as well, he settled his friend back into the bed and pulled up the covers, smoothing the dark curls back from his forehead as he did so. Jason was asleep almost as soon as he lay back down.

Pythagoras smiled softly and returned to the table and his beloved equations.

* * *

Medusa bit her lip as she looked around the palace kitchen. Everyone else had gone for the night but she had tucked herself into an alcove, staying out of sight until they had all gone. She had loudly bid everyone farewell earlier – had let them think she had left already. She made her way over to the cupboard where the scraps left over from cooking were stored and laid out her shawl, filling it with produce. If she were caught stealing from the palace kitchens... well the punishment didn't bear thinking about! She sighed. She was a clever girl and knew that Jason would need good food to help him get better – and the boys were not well off at the best of times. A little risk on her part would be worth it in the long run, she reasoned. She knotted the corners of her shawl together and made her way to the door, looking around a little nervously as she did so.

The corridors on the way to the servants entrance were deserted at this time of night, and the excessive quiet made Medusa even more nervous. She was nearly at the servants door now and started to hurry, keen to get out of the palace.

"What are you doing?" The voice startled her so much that she dropped her bundle, various foodstuffs escaping and rolling across the floor. She turned in terror and found herself facing the Princess Ariadne.

"I asked you a question," Ariadne said firmly.

Medusa was nearly in tears.

"Please, My Lady, it's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you were stealing food from the kitchen. Do you have any idea what would happen if you were caught?"

"Yes... no... I wasn't really stealing, My Lady. They are just some leftovers that the head cook would have thrown out in the morning."

"And you thought that leftovers were worth risking everything for? Are you that hungry Medusa?" Ariadne's tone was as kind as always.

"No," Medusa answered. "They were for my friend. He was hurt and has been very ill. I just wanted to help."

"Friend? What friend?" the Princess asked sharply.

"Jason."

Ariadne's beautiful face paled noticeably and she grabbed Medusa's arm.

"Is he alright?" she asked urgently.

"He will be. He's getting better already," the other woman answered.

Ariadne nodded. She bent and picked up Medusa's shawl, handing it to the girl.

"Go quickly. But this cannot happen again, Medusa. It is too risky for you."

Medusa nodded gratefully and hurried off, feeling the Princess' gaze on her back all the way to the exit.

* * *

_The cell wall was cool to touch in the stifling heat. He lay, tethered like an animal by means of a collar and rope, tied to a stake, shivering in the darkness. They no longer bothered watching him closely, assuming that he was too weak to escape – that his will was too far broken. He hadn't spoken for days, had retreated into some dark corner of his own mind – his captors knew that death couldn't be too far off now and were sorry; the boy had been so deliciously stubborn. _

_He struggled to rise even as the cell door was flung open and the worst of his tormentors swaggered in – more beast than man. Hard hands grabbed his shoulders, nails biting into the soft skin viciously, as his captor drew his lips back from his broken teeth in a snarl._

"_Time to make you scream."_

_Closing his eyes, he lashed out desperately and felt his hand connect hard with something soft._

Jason woke up suddenly with a scream still dying on his lips. Momentarily unable to reconcile the difference between the dream and waking, he screwed his eyes tightly shut and brought his hands up to cover his face. As reality kicked in he felt soft, slender hands gently grasping his shoulders and heard muted cursing in the background.

"He hit me," a deep voice rumbled, before continuing with a steady stream of curses. It took Jason a minute to identify the gruff tone as Hercules.

"Well you shouldn't have tried to wake him like that." The second voice was lighter, more reasonable and much, much closer. It must be Pythagoras holding him then.

Jason allowed his hands to fall away from his face and opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to get his heart rate back under control.

"Are you alright?" Pythagoras looked concerned. "You looked like you were having a nightmare."

Jason nodded and swallowed, unable to form words for the moment. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Hercules who was clutching his nose and staring back at him.

"Did I do that?" Jason asked. "I am so sorry."

Hercules noted the distress in the young man's voice. Realising the boy was close to tears, he let his hand drop and bit back the curses that were still on the tip of his tongue.

"It's fine," he rumbled. "Just surprised me is all. At least I know not to wake you like that again."

He produced a deck of cards from his pocket.

"Do you play cards?" he asked, smiling as Jason nodded. "How about a hand?"

Jason grinned suddenly, although his friends both noted that it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Bring it on," he said.

Pythagoras stepped away from the bed. While he knew that sooner or later they would need to have a serious conversation about what Jason had been through and about what was troubling him, now was not the time. He looked back at his two friends, already engrossed in their game, and smiled. He grabbed his cloak from a peg on the wall and stepped outside to get some air.


End file.
